Consolation Prize
by Kalvin Edward Rumwyn
Summary: Sometimes, your romantic rivals just show up to piss you off. Of course, Marcus had something else in mind for Earl Harlan.


Earl, once the festivities were over, found himself utterly alone. Well, to be fair, he was sipping coffee in the diner next to Big Rico's, but it wasn't the same as being alone _romantically_. Earl sipped his sweet coffee bitterly. There was a certain scientist Earl was envious of.

As Earl silently slipped into a cocoon of jealousy, the richest (and, as everyone knows, greatest) resident of Night Vale stalked in. Earl was the only person who didn't notice and that made Marcus notice Earl's lack of notice.

"How have you been, Early Bird?" Marcus purred, slipping into the booth across from the scoutmaster. He grinned, knowing Earl had recently heard about the new boy toy in town.

"Don't call me that," Earl grumbled, glaring angrily at his coffee.

"You heard about Cecil's new accessory, I take it," Marcus replied, refusing to drop it. If he tilted his head just right, Marcus swore Earl was turning red under those cute little freckles. Of course, Marcus tilted his head for no man, so he settled on squinting behind his ridiculously expensive sunglasses.

"Shut up, Marcus," Earl snapped, wanting to throttle the rich man but settling on glaring at him.

"No need to get so furious, Early Bird," Marcus replied, chuckling. "If their relationship doesn't work out, you can take your snot-nosed charges and bury him out in the desert."

"Marcus, shut up," Earl told him, hand that wasn't gripping his coffee mug turning into a fist. "You don't understand what Cecil and I had. It was something deep, something I don't expect you to understand."

"Oh, I understand it perfectly," Marcus replied, sweetness draining from his words. He watched Earl, who slammed his fist on the table.

"You don't understand anything!" Earl shouted. "You don't understand what it feels like to be held against your will, training for something that doesn't matter, while the person you thought loved you finds someone new to screw around with! You don't know how that feels, Marcus, so don't pretend you do!"

People stared at Earl before quickly resuming their activities. Marcus could handle this; he usually did for lesser offenses.

"No," Marcus told him coldly. "I know how it feels to court someone for their sake. I know how it feels to be a gossip column. I know how it feels to do something just for the sake of doing it."

"That's all you ever do," Earl mumbled darkly. He sipped his coffee, embarrassed for his outburst and how calmly Marcus answered him.

"I also know how it feels to love your rival," Marcus told him, sitting back and crossing his arms. "To watch as neither of you earn the prize. While we sat squabbling over who could afford the largest vase of flowers—and don't deny I won every time for size—some newcomer snapped up the morsel."

Earl snapped weakly, "You never knew what flowers Cecil liked. You would have been a shitty boyfriend."

"I didn't do it to be romantic, Earl Harlan," Marcus replied, staring at him over the shades. "I did it to piss you off and give people something to talk about."

"You're an ass," Earl muttered as a smiling waitress refilled his mug. He sipped his coffee, knowing better than to acknowledge her. She hissed and stalked off.

"I may be an ass, but I would like to spend time admiring yours," Marcus replied, grinning. "Earl Harlan, the only consolation prize we have is each other."

"That's Scoutmaster Earl Harlan to you," Earl told him, staring out the window.

"Very rugged and smooth," Marcus told him sarcastically. "I'll be in touch, you cutie."

"Shut up, Marcus."

"You know there's only one way to do that," Marcus teased. He watched Earl sputter on his coffee and Marcus left the money for Earl's coffee and whatever else the scoutmaster had been ordering. He promised, "I'll be in touch."

Marcus got up and walked out, people admiring him. Earl huffed and went to see how much Marcus left to show off. From between the twenty-dollar bills (far too much for coffee and a slice of apple pie, Earl noted), fell a business card. Rolling his eyes, Earl followed the neat arrow, finding Marcus' personal number on the back.

He slipped the card into his pocket, coughing awkwardly. He left the diner, getting into his truck and driving back to his apartment. After collecting his mail, he went to unlock the door so he could shower and climb into bed.

Sitting in front of his door was a large vase of fresh flowers. Smiling at the deadly mix of plants, Earl scooped up the vase, careful of the poison oak stems that decorated the bunch. He set it on the coffee-turned-dining table, sighing.

Only Marcus would give him such a varied bunch of amazingly deadly plants.


End file.
